Page 1 of Thorns of Deceit: The Beast Within

PROLOGUE

The night air bit at his skin, a welcome sting that did little to numb the storm raging within him. He stood beneath the old willow tree, its branches swaying gently in the breeze, creating a veil between him and the rest of the world.

Good. Let them all fade away.

His fingers closed around the bottle of Eulogiant Red, its contents sloshing as he raised it to his lips. The liquid burned a path down his throat, a poor substitute for the heat he truly craved. How many had he consumed?

It didn’t matter. Nothing did.

His free hand slipped into his pocket, retrieving a small, dried red petal. He held it up, watching as it caught the moonlight. A memento of a moment that never should have been, a reminder of the one person he could never have. Such a fragile thing, yet it had endured.

“Sentiment,” he muttered, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “How pathetic.”

The petal twirled between his fingers as he thought of Princess Quince, of the alliance that would seal both theirfates. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his face tightening. She was beautiful, he supposed, in the way a venomous snake was beautiful. All gleaming scales and deadly intent.

But she wasn’t?—

No. He wouldn’t allow himself to finish that thought.

With a sigh, he returned the petal to his pocket and shrugged off his coat. The intricate gold and red embroidery reflected the light as he threw it over the nearby bench. The chill air raised goosebumps along his arms, but he welcomed the discomfort. It was nothing compared to the ache in his chest.

All those years… down the drain.

He took another long pull from the bottle, relishing the burn. The wine was beginning to work its magic, softening the edges of his thoughts.

Good. Perhaps tonight he could finally forget.

A sudden movement caught his attention, pulling him from his dark musings. He turned, his vision swimming slightly, and froze.

There, bathed in moonlight, stood the most stunning creature he had ever laid eyes on. Silver-white hair cascaded down her back, framing a face that could have been carved by the gods themselves. Her nightgown, soaked through and clinging to every curve, left little to the imagination.

For a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He blinked slowly, certain that this apparition would disappear. But she remained, solid and real and utterly captivating.

Was this a dream? If so, he never wanted to wake.

He found himself moving toward her, slow and deliberate, drawn by an irresistible force. He couldn’t risk startling her, couldn’t bear the thought of her vanishing like mist in the morning sun. The wine bottle slipped from his fingers, landing with a dull thud on the wet grass. He didn’t care about its loss, too entranced by the woman before him.

As he drew closer, he noticed the way she trembled, whether from cold or fear he couldn’t tell.

Without thinking, he reached for his discarded coat. The fabric was still warm from his body as he draped it gently over her shoulders. The simple act of chivalry felt woefully inadequate, laughable even. He wanted to wrap her in his arms, to shield her from the world, from other eyes.

Her eyes widened, lips parting slightly in surprise. His gaze was drawn to that mouth, wondering how it would taste. Would her lips be as soft as they looked? As yielding?

His hand moved of its own accord, brushing a damp strand of hair from her face. The silken texture sent a jolt through him, awakening something primal and possessive.

She belonged to him. She should always belong to him.

But that was impossible. He knew his duty, knew the chains that bound him. This was nothing more than a beautiful dream, a cruel trick of his wine-addled mind.

And if that was the case… To hell with it all.

He closed the distance between them, his arms snaking around her waist, pulling her flush against him. He reveled in the feel of her soft curves pressed against his hard planes, a feeling that set his blood aflame.

For a heartbeat, he hesitated, searching her face for any sign of rejection. He saw the shock in her eyes, the flicker of something else—desire?—before he claimed her lips with his own.

The kiss was desperate, hungry, filled with longing and frustration. She tasted of rain and moonlight, of everything he’d ever wanted and could never have. At first, she remained still, and he feared he’d overstepped. But then she melted against him, and the world fell away.

A low groan escaped him as she responded, matching his fervor with her own. Her fingers tangled in his hair, nailsscraping against his scalp in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

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